


And Always Shall Be

by russian_blue



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-03
Updated: 2011-07-03
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:42:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russian_blue/pseuds/russian_blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened before the final scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Always Shall Be

_I have been, and always shall be, your friend._

Nearly four hundred cadets dead in the black void around Vulcan. The memorials go on and on: one for the _Farragut_ , one for the _Antares_ ; one for the medical officers, one for the engineers; one for each of the species that made up what should have been the next generation. All of Starfleet mourns, and James Tiberius Kirk mourns with them; but the grief his mind keeps returning to is this one, the friendship that could have been.

Spock -- the other Spock -- told him that emotional transference was a side-effect of the meld. Dry, clinical language for the residue that lingers in his mind. First and foremost, of course, is the devastating loss of Vulcan -- but that doesn't touch him, not directly. What gets him instead is something unexpected: a friendship between two men, powerful and lasting, like a blanket of warm strength Jim isn't allowed to wrap himself in. The depth of that bond staggers him. How many years, how many trials, must it have taken to build such a thing? He didn't even know Vulcans were _capable_ of it. That they allowed it to themselves. Or maybe it's Spock's human side talking. The man has one; of that, Jim is sure.

Such a bond of friendship. Of trust, loyalty, fondness. It calls to him, a puzzle piece seeking its match, making him want to shape himself to fit it. To complete the whole that once was.

Even though he knows it isn't his to complete.

***

 _I have been, and always shall be, your friend._

Except they aren't. And they never will be.

One half of that friendship was raised by George Kirk. A proud son of Starfleet, not a delinquent who had to be shamed into joining, years late. And Spock . . . how different is that Spock, the one from the other future? Jim doesn't know.

What he _does_ know is that this Jim and this Spock will never be friends. It was unlikely when Jim joined Starfleet, tardy delinquent instead of proud son. It became even less likely when he and Spock faced off at the podiums, the commander not showing his contempt only because that wasn't the sort of thing properly-raised Vulcans did. But even then, there might have been a chance.

Until Jim killed it.

That's the memory that haunts him. The memorials swamp it under, one grief drowning beneath the weight of hundreds; the work of preparing the _Enterprise_ shoves it aside, more immediate challenges demanding his attention. But when he finishes arguing with the repair techs and walks from the drydocks to the quartermaster's, when he wolfs down a meal in the mess hall without really tasting it, when he lies in bed at three a.m. staring at the insides of his eyelids . . . what he remembers then is that moment on the bridge, Spock's dark eyes locked on his, and Jim searching with every bit of intuition he had to find the chink in the commander's armor.

 _Prod him. Don't bother trying to hide what you're after; he'll figure it out anyway. Let him know, and let that create fear; he has a weakness, and you just might find it. Bring up fear. Bring up the_ Kobayashi Maru _. Bring up Vulcan, use six billion dead sentient beings as a playing piece in this game, because if you don't there'll be a lot more where those came from -- but that isn't enough, is it; you have to go for the heart. Because he has one, and you know it. You felt its strength, in a cave on Delta Vega IV. He isn't your friend, he feels nothing for you, but there_ is _someone he loves -- there_ was _\-- and that's the break you need._

 _Say it. Say the thing he will never forgive you for._

So he did. Because it was the only way to break Spock. And he had to break Spock to get command of the _Enterprise_ , to stop Nero and save Earth from Vulcan's fate.

But it felt like putting a knife through his own heart. Because maybe they could have been two pieces that fit together -- not the same pieces, but good in their own way -- and he had to give that up, for the greater good.

They are not, and never will be, friends.

***

 _I have been, and always shall be, your friend._

Maybe not -- but maybe they don't have to be enemies.

After all, Spock came back. Jim can't imagine what monumental effort of will that must have required, to walk back onto the bridge and work alongside the guy he'd tried to strangle only minutes before . . . but Spock did it. It must be the Vulcan in him -- or the Starfleet officer, stepping up to meet his duty no matter what else got in the way. Granted, the fate of the human species was at stake then; all that's at stake now is Jim's peace of mind. Still, he won't be able to live with himself if he doesn't try, and once he figures _that_ out, the rest is just logistics.

Unfortunately, Starfleet's database can't tell him what he wants to know. There's an abundance of Vulcan philosophy, expounding on ethical principles and the meaning of sentience and the role of logic in life, but next to nothing about Vulcan customs. He even looks up the writings of Sarek, but the ambassador hasn't put much work into explaining his species to humanity; more the other way around. Jim ends up with a short list of scholars who have spent their lives studying Vulcan culture. He stares at it for ten minutes, then makes a disgusted noise, swallows his pride, and goes to find Uhura.

"You've probably learned a lot about Vulcan customs," he says. They're in one of the small gardens positioned regularly around the Starfleet dock; right now the ceiling is programmed to show a sunny day, rather than the Earth slowly wheeling above.

Uhura looks at him like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when he doesn't make any cracks about her and Spock, she says, "What do you want to know?"

"Hypothetically speaking, if you wanted to communicate regret to a Vulcan, how would you do it?"

Her eyes narrow. "What kind of regret? Is this a, 'I made the wrong decision' kind of thing?"

"More a, 'I made the right decision but I wish it hadn't been necessary' kind of thing."

Much like that moment on the bridge, there's not much point in trying to hide what he's doing. Jim doesn't know enough Vulcans -- there aren't enough of them left -- for this to be referring to anybody other than Spock. But it's easier to let Uhura figure it out than to say it directly.

She leans back on the garden bench. He's standing in front of her, feeling way too tall, but it kind of makes him look like a supplicant and he suspects she's enjoying that. So he stands while she thinks. "When Vulcans want to discuss something that's borderline emotional," she says at last, "they give each other books of poetry."

His jaw unhinges a little. "Vulcans have poetry?"

She waggles one graceful hand in the air. "Or philosophy. They're kind of the same thing. Anyway, the usual method is to find a book that discusses the concept you want to communicate, and then give it as a gift."

He wonders if that's how she caught Spock. She must have done _something_ ; no way in any galaxy was Spock the one who started that relationship. Uhura saw him, wanted him, and figured out how to get him -- but Jim _has_ kind of wondered what's buried inside that word, _how_.

As if Uhura can read those inappropriate thoughts straight out of his head, she adds, " _But_ , Vulcan philosophy is pretty subtle. You're probably better off showing up with a couple of beers."

"I can be subtle!" Jim says, purely on reflex. Uhura just raises an eyebrow. It needles him; he isn't _stupid_ , and he thought she knew that by now.

No, that isn't it. If Uhura really thought he would pick the wrong book, she'd be calling up the database right now to choose for him. She's never said anything about it, but he knows she doesn't like what went down between him and Spock, however necessary it was. Regret: she knows exactly what kind he means.

So if she's recommending a couple of beers, it's because she thinks it really will produce the best result. Which ought to be food for thought -- but Jim knows that if he lets himself think about this too much, he'll chicken out.

 _Never mind maneuvers; always go straight at 'em._ He can't remember where the quote comes from -- some historical captain; probably one who got himself blown up -- but whatever. Beers it is. "Thanks, Uhura," Jim says, with a flamboyant bow; he's rewarded with the quirked lips that mean she's both annoyed and amused, and she waves him on to battle.

Or, perhaps, to peace.

***

 _I have been, and always shall be, your friend._

Those are _not_ the right words to say. Jim meant to spend some time planning what to say, because he's pretty sure he'll screw it up if he just opens his mouth and starts talking, but somehow he's standing outside Spock's door without any particular plan in mind. Somewhere between the turbolift and here, the grip of the six-pack in his left hand got slick with sweat. He shifts it to the other hand, wipes his palm dry against his hip, shifts it back. And then knocks, before he can lose his nerve.

Most people give a lot away, in that instant when they see who's at the door. Spock just tilts his head a fraction, which could be surprise, curiosity, reconnaissance on the nerves in Jim's neck. It doesn't tell him anything.

Jim swallows -- then realizes Spock will have seen, and correctly interpreted, that sign of nervousness -- then says, "Hey. Mind if I come in?"

Spock's dark eyes narrow an even tinier fraction, and there's a deliberately long hesitation before he says, "Be my guest."

Passing him in the doorway, Jim wonders whether he should maybe have asked Uhura some more questions. What are Vulcan hospitality rules? Should he bow, take his shoes off, cover his eyes to show respect? It's Starfleet; anybody who gets offended by an alien's accidental faux pas has long since washed out, but he'd rather get off on the right foot if he can.

Well, too late now. He's in Spock's quarters, which are decorated in a manner he wants to call _spartan_ and maybe is just _Vulcan_. Surprisingly organic fabrics -- he half-expected everything to be glass and chrome, hard and logical -- but not much in the way of knick-knacks, though there are a couple of archaic weapons on the wall he really hopes won't end up being relevant to this conversation. They probably won't be; Spock's fists are weapons enough. Jim's jaw aches at the memory.

Once the commander has shut the door, Jim shoves the six-pack at him like the peace offering it's supposed to be. "Look, I came to say I'm sorry."

Spock doesn't touch the beer. "Clarify."

Is he stupid or a sadist? _Dumb question_. "For -- well, for being an ass. Some of it, anyway. Not for cheating on the _Kobayashi Maru_ ; you deserved what you got, there." He needs to get the words out before his impulse to avoid them screws up his apology worse than it already has. "For what I said on the bridge. About your mother."

That minuscule lift of one straight, sardonic eyebrow, that says more than most humans can manage with a paragraph. And then Spock asks, "Why?"

Why is he _sorry?_ Jim hadn't expected that part to need clarification. "Hell, man -- you didn't deserve that! Nobody would! It was unfair and untrue. I only did it because it was necessary, and I'd do it again if I had to, but I still feel like shit for it, and son of a bitch you've talked to him haven't you."

That must be what amusement looks like on a Vulcan.

Jim drops the beers on a nearby table with an unceremonious _thunk_ and swears. "He told me the universe would annihilate itself or something if you two met!"

"He _implied_ ," Spock says meticulously. And since he wasn't there for the conversation in question, that must be the other Spock's hair-splitting that he's quoting.

"Son of a bitch," Jim repeats, and collapses into a chair without considering whether that might be seen as rude. After a moment, Spock crosses to sit in another chair, facing him. He picks up two bottles along the way, cracks both caps with one hand, and offers them to Jim. Who takes one and chugs down half before saying, "Okay, yes. I know about the other universe -- the other me -- and that's part of why I'm here. Not all of it; I _was_ an ass, and I'd feel bad about it even if I didn't know the two of them were friends. But I might not be here, trying to patch it up."

"There is no need to apologize." Spock takes a sip of his own beer. It's the best Jim could afford on what he's collected so far of captain's pay, but he can't tell what the commander thinks of it. An uncertainty he'll have to get used to, he suspects, if the two of them are going to be on speaking terms. "Your plan against Nero, though impulsive and highly unlikely to succeed, proved ultimately to be very useful. More to the point, you were committed to pursuing it. Given that constraint, it was necessary for you to remove me from command, and your . . . choice of tactics was effective."

It's a good speech, a good _Vulcan_ speech, but the hesitation near the end tells Jim this is the logic talking, not the heart. He's tempted to prod for more, to let Spock vent the buried anger and grief more openly, but he suspects there isn't much middle ground: the next step past that tiny crack would be a full-scale breakdown. Which is the human way of dealing with such things, and Spock is half-human -- but clearly the man values his Vulcan control, and would not thank Jim for pushing him past it a second time.

"Effective or not," Jim says instead, "I still wish I didn't have to do it. And I wanted you to know that. I don't expect we're going to end up best friends or anything, but we worked together pretty well in the end, and I -- well, we're both still in Starfleet. If we run into each other at some point in the future, I'd like to think we could work together again."

Without hesitation, Spock says, "We can." It doesn't come as a surprise; he's hardly the sort to let personal feelings get in the way of duty, so long as nobody's jumping up and down on any big red buttons labeled MOTHER. But the admission eases something in Jim's chest anyway, because it might mean something more than just _I'm too logical to snub you out of spite_.

They're still holding the beers. Jim lifts his with a wry grin and says, "I brought these on expert advice, you know," and passes the time it takes to drink the remainder by telling Spock about Uhura's help. It's awkward, but not _too_ awkward; this, Jim thinks, he could live with.

That relief of that makes his tongue stupid, when he gets up to leave. "The _Enterprise_ needs a first officer, you know."

"I know," Spock answers him, with the patience of somebody who doesn't see much point in repeating information they both possess just for the sake of small talk.

"We're launching day after tomorrow," Jim adds, which is something Spock might not know. "Just a shakedown cruise, two days, nothing big. I don't have to finalize all my officers until after that. But, y'know."

Words fail him, and Spock doesn't help. The commander just presses the button to open the door and says, "Thank you for coming by."

Jim nods and flees, cursing himself inwardly. Mending bridges was one thing; all but offering the guy a post is something else entirely, and that something else might be a really bad idea. But the curse is mild: he's made his apology, and for the first time since he stayed up to code that trojan for the _Kobayashi Maru_ , before Starfleet and the galaxy went to pieces, he'll sleep well tonight.

***

They're literally ten seconds away from pushing back from the space dock when the door to the bridge hisses open and the passenger _nobody bothered to tell Jim was on the ship_ says, "Permission to come aboard, Captain."

A little sun of joy lights up beneath Jim's sternum. But he's got an image to maintain, and so the only sign of it he lets show is a faint but cocky grin before he answers, "Permission granted."

Spock unlinks his hands from behind his back as he comes forward, into the very domain the two of them fought over not long ago. "As you have yet to select a first officer, respectfully I would like to submit my candidacy." Jim stands to meet him. They're the same height, down to the centimeter -- he checked Starfleet's personnel records -- but Spock's posture gives him the advantage. An advantage he doesn't try to use, not this time. There's even a hint of a smile on the Vulcan's face as he says, "Should you desire, I can provide character references."

Oh, there is _such_ a line there, begging to be said, about the dirt Uhura probably has on him -- but this is neither the time nor the place for such jokes. Jim speaks the pure truth when he says, "It would be my honor, commander."

And that easily, it's settled. Spock steps aside, Jim goes back to giving orders, and at the comm station Uhura glows with smug relief. They all settle into place, new puzzle pieces cut into shapes more jagged than the old, but interlocking after all.

 _I am, and always shall be, your friend._

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere -- either on the DVD or in an interview -- I saw one of the writers of the new _Star Trek_ movie say that certain things in the plot, the events that lead to Kirk and Spock and Uhura and so on becoming the officers of the _Enterprise_ , are a function of the timeline trying to "heal" itself. Frankly, I detest that notion: it says there's a right way for the universe to be, a Destiny that some external force wants these people to fulfill. I'm not a fan of that sort of thing even in fantasy, and much less so in science fiction (even science fiction as handwavy as ST); I much prefer character as destiny, where they end up in those positions because of who they are and the choices they make.
> 
> So I wrote a "missing scene" sort of fic, imagining what choices on the part of Kirk and Spock (and Uhura) led to the final piece falling into place. It's almost entirely about playing around with their mental states; I'm actually not much of a _Star Trek_ person, though I've seen part of the original series and other bits here and there, so virtually all of the worldbuilding detail is my own random invention. My apologies to more knowledgeable fans; I'd be glad to hear of any relevant canonical details in the comments.
> 
> The repeated line, and all the dialogue in the final scene, are taken directly from the film.


End file.
